


The Renewal of Love

by glymr



Series: Hope, Faith, Love [3]
Category: DCU - Comicverse, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Help Haiti, Heroes in Haiti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never thought he'd have reason to come to this place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Renewal of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Relief](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/21731) by faile_neume. 



> This one's a little weird. faile_neume wrote a heartbreakingly beautiful story for The Heroes in Haiti Challenge called "Relief". Then iesika made a [comment](http://faile-neume.livejournal.com/74716.html?thread=824284#t824284) that, for me, doubled the impact of an already powerful story. It made me think about a lot of things, and, well, it led to this piece. It's not really a sequel, but it uses a similar background to "Relief" as a starting point. It's also a bit different from my other Heroes in Haiti pieces.

He feels it like a weight in the back of his mind, even as he's sewing people up, even as he's setting broken bones and bandaging bodies.

_This is where she died._

This country, this place of strange magics and mysterious jungles and poor, starving people.

He does not allow it to affect his work. He does what he must as he always has. As he always will.

A beautiful, dark-skinned woman weeps tears of joy when he saves her child's life. She says something to him in Creole, but he can't quite understand it...though he is picking up the language slowly, it's one he had never wanted to learn.

He'd never thought he'd have reason to come to this place.

When he falls asleep at last, utterly exhausted, he dreams. He dreams of monstrous things at first, the smell of blood and smoke in the air, the screams of pain from the wounded, from the dying...they become the sound of his mother's voice, only half-remembered, crying out for mercy. The blood becomes her blood, the smoke surrounds her, and Tim cries out, reaching for her...

A cool sensation on his forehead. "Tim," comes the whisper, "I'm all right." The nightmare dissolves into wisps and dissipates, leaving Tim standing in a place surrounded by shadows. He looks up into the face of a woman, a beautiful woman with three rings on one hand. She smiles at him and reaches for him. He shivers, but takes a step toward her.

"Yes, you are mine, boy," says the woman. He does not know what language she is speaking, but he understands her. Her skin is dark and rich, like the deepest midnight, like the woman weeping over her child he'd seen today. Sweet smells surround her, cakes and flowers and perfume. She's dressed in a garment that shimmers, white and pink and blue and gold.

Tim hates magic, it is a slippery, illogical thing. The rules of it are inconsistent; it cannot be studied or measured or quantified like everything else. He takes another step toward the woman, close enough that she can take his hand in hers. Jewels glitter on her neck, in her ears, on her wrists, and he thinks of his mother and how she loved to wear beautiful things, rich things.

"Poor boy," says the woman. She touches his cheek, and he feels his mother's hand on his face again. She smells like his mother, too, like the perfume she used to wear. "You miss her."

Tim swallows. "Always," he says hoarsely.

"She loves you," says the woman, and kisses him on the forehead. It's like being four years old again, with the press of his mother's lips on his skin as she tucks him in.

Tim can't speak.

"You must continue to love," she says "Though it hurts." A flash of pain, of betrayal. "Yes. But you must continue." And he feels a wash of affection, sweet desire, tenderness. "Yes."

"Yes, Erzulia Freda," he says, wondering how he knows her, and she kisses him again, this time on his cheek, and he wakes up.

The woman whose child he saved is there, holding his hand. She blinks at him as though she, too, has just awoken. "You must sleep more," she says to him, and he understands her.

"Go back to your child," he says gently, and she stands and leaves. He closes his eyes again, breathing deep. The smells of blood and smoke are gone, but he thinks he catches the lingering hint of his mother's perfume.

 

_(Oh wow!_ _[ **shinigrace** ](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/) _ _made an amazing piece of art for this story![ _Please, tell her how wonderful it is!_ )](http://shinigrace.livejournal.com/5110.html)_

  
  
  
  
From the [Wikipedia entry](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erzulie_Freda#Erzulie_Freda_Dahomey):  _Erzulie Freda_ [_Dahomey_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dahomey) _, the_ [_Rada_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rada_loa) _aspect of Erzulie, is the spirit of love, beauty, jewellery, dancing, luxury, and flowers. Homosexual men are considered to be under her particular patronage. She wears three_ [_wedding rings_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wedding_ring) _, one for each husband -_ [_Damballa_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damballa) _,_ [_Agwe_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agwe) _and_ [_Ogoun_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ogoun) _. Her symbol is a heart, her colours are pink, blue, white and gold, and her favourite sacrifices include jewellery, perfume, sweet cakes and liqueurs. Coquettish and very fond of beauty and finery, Erzulie Freda is femininity and compassion embodied, yet she also has a darker side; she is seen as jealous and spoiled and within some Vodoun circles is considered to be lazy._


End file.
